Shattered Vision for Vanimar
Golden trees, Óllondun thought and touched the white bark of the mallorn tree. It was smooth to the touch without missing the usual strength of the bark. It reflected the light like a great mirror that came from the thousand lights that had been lit by the Elves of Caras Galadhon. The fleets were illuminated in a golden gleam, mixed with the faint accent of silver. By all the beauty this place was radiating it brought as well the cautious approach of melancholy.
The Seneschal's hand left the tree.
He did not think that he would be still alive. His life was almost taken by an orcish halberd and yet his brethren had been able to rekindle the fading flame that burned in his heart.
Óllondun wore now his garments of the Sirtirith, the Wardens of the Tirn. It had been fashioned after the armor of the Gate-Keepers of Lothlórien; White and shining like a star.
He had always understood the love, the Grandmaster had held for this place. It was a haven, were one could sink into peace, while the world around him would cease to exist, taking away both pain and sorrow. The same effect it had on Óllondun as he tried to move his arm. The bone had been badly broken after the weapons of the foe hit him. Now it was laid into a white piece of cloth, stabilizing his arm before his chest so that it could heal in rest, fitting to his armor however.
"I am glad to see that thou art better", said a voice in his back. The Seneschal turned around, looking into the face of an obviously elder Elf.
The one who addressed him was tall, his hands were laid on his back. Hair that seemed to be threads woven of silver framed the thin face with the blue eyes. A white robe, long and with a marvelous worked seam on arms and legs was floating around the Elf like liquid water in the faint breeze of the night. Golden hart antlers adorned his head, that appeared like a crown. The smile that he wore spoke of kindness and brotherly warmth toward Óllondun, washed away the melancholy that had befallen him within a mere moment of breath taking.
"The healers allowed me to walk the fleets, friend", Óllondun answered and could not but smile as well.
Grandmaster Yárilyion came up to him. "It was a bold attempt to hold the Iant Fain, Óllondun. Bold but successful after all."
"Then the Orcs retreated?"
Yárilyion shook his head. "From the bridge maybe for now, but be certain that they will come again. They are relentless in their futile attempts to overthrow us."
They exchanged looks. "Come, let us walk along the fleets."
Caras Galadhon was a city build within the great Mallorn trees of Lórien. With their hundreds of stairs ways, labyrinthine paths and living places high among the foliage, the city could easily confuse those who visited it the first time. Even some local Elves were taking the wrong way still from time to time.
Óllondun followed the Grandmaster and for a while they walked silent side by side. But worries vexed the Seneschal.
"Master, we are in the need of aid", he said, testing Yárilyion's reaction who remained silent still. "Thranduil and the Tirn alone cannot hold back the enemy forces for too much longer. Some day that will come maybe sooner than we expect it, we will be robbed of our balance, give way and be lost. I believe it is time that we call upon our brethren to the west."
Óllondun followed the Grandmaster as he nodded and led him towards a table with two chairs. On the table that appeared to be carved from the fleet and stood there unmovable, lay wooden figurines, that the Grandmaster began to order into certain positions.
It was an old elvish game that had been invented by one one of the silvans back in distant days. Cam-en-Callon was it known as in the tongue of the Sindar. Each of the two players began with the same amount of figurines of which each had specific rules applying different to each field they would be placed on. The aim was to capture every figurine of the opponent.
The two Elves sat down.
"I have dispatched someone already to seek aid in the west, dear friend", said Yárilyion and took up the figure of an elvish rider, placed it down a short distance advancing from its former position.
Riders rushing through the line ...
Óllondun did not hesitate and accepted the unspoken challenge. He moved the figurine of a bow, captured the elvish rider and placed his trophy next to him on the table. "And who, Master? I thought all the Tirn were needed in the defense of the land. Not a single one we could spare it was said."
Archers thinnen them therein ...
For a moment Yárilyion remained silent again, before letting his lancers circle around the archers towards Óllondun's catapult figurine. "I know that our forces are thinly spread for the land we must defend is wide and far. For that matter I send out Gaomee. I trust her and her walk that is swiftly as that of the wind."
Lancers, day is getting dim,
Catapults, the walls are breaking in!
Óllondun's lines were brought into form and he began his first advancement, letting his own shield bearers stand against Yárilyion's lancers in order to defend his war machines. He was eager to know what the Grandmaster was planning, for it was well known that few had defeated him in his long life.
Tacticians standing on the height,
Words are shouted through the fight.
An ambush planned in deepest night ...
"I know Gaomee well and do not doubt her skills, but send her on a diplomatic mission of this size, master? Mithlond, Imladris, these places are far away from each others and aid may come when it is too late."
Yárilyion shook his head as he moved another figurine of his. Both players did not dare yet to attack. "I told her that Mithlond would hold no allies for us. I know the Shipwright and I know the leader of the Loth-i-Lonnath. Curugirion is a great warrior, but also loyal to his course as we are to ours. The corsairs and pirates before the coasts of Lindon will hold the mariner far too occupied as that he would think of sending one of his important sailors away. No, I believe we might find more allies in Imladris."
The war-luck lies then here, then there
Enemies, the tension hard to bear.
Some break through, are driven back
Fear of defeat sits in one's neck ...
Óllondun frowned. He knew but two great regiments that had their station within the valley of Lord Elrond and they were also there to defend the vale from possible attackers. News had gone around that some of them would wish to retake Eregion, rebuilding it as it was before its destruction. "Vanimar, master?", Óllondun spoke out loudly.
"Lord Anglachelm is far-sighted. I am certain he will be of aid, if not today then some other time. But by all his concern to protect what he has, he might not be able to see the perils of others", Grandmaster Yárilyion let his figurines advance once more. "Or he cannot simply for he is missing the number of swords. Vanimar was strongly diminished after the fall of Gondolin and although their members are still proud they do not hold the same strength as in the Elder Days."
One there is who dares assault
For the soldiers there is no hold.
The sound of steel is far up ringing,
Blades are seeking, finding, stinging ...
Óllondun smirked as he lost several of his figurines, while he captured only one. "What a smart attack, master."
Yárilyion nodded simply, stroking over his chin as he eyed the situation on the table. It was Óllondun's move.
The youngling arrives to see,
Thinks himself victor to be.
But intrigues are by far done
All chances already gone.
Undermined and impacted,
On two fronts roams the battle.
There the gap and there the castling;
Certain is who is now loosing.
"That was the last of thy figurines, good Óllondun", said the Grandmaster and stood up. "Let us hope that we might find our allies in our peril."
♦
Gaomee took of her hood. Bright shone the freckles that had become more and more visible with the coming summer days. Her red hair fell down loosely her back and along her shoulders on her chest in slight curls.
There she stood midst the audience hall of the House Vanimar, surrounded by four Ñoldor, all having seen service in war, but only one she knew by name.
Two stood to each side of her, like guards of their ways and Gaomee could feel how one or other of them eyed her mistrusting. But that did not unease her or let her become insecure. Gaomee knew how to handle situations like this one and how to act when being at a court. Only her words she had to choose wisely in order to gain approval of most of those who were attending. For Anglachelm was maybe the leader of the House but also he had to listen to the council of his men.
"For those of ye who do not know me, I am Gaomee, one of those who safeguard the borders of the forest that was once Greenwood the Great. I believe there is no need to say that the situation grows dire with every dusk that passes by. I have been sent here by my order's Grandmaster Yárilyion, who maybe one of ye know, on a diplomatic mission", Gaomee opened and made a small break, letting her words echo in the high hall.
She crossed her hands behind her back, stood upright in her stature in order to overcome her nervousity. "We try to hold the borders, milord, but the enemy is trickful. With large crossbows he penetrates our lines terribly efficient and we find us in the need of aid. They have been armed with crossbows that can break through our armor even on long range. Halberd warriors tried to take the Iant Fain though we could fend them off with great cost. So in friendship my Master Yárilyion asks for the strong arm of the Ñoldor who are widely renown."
Gaomee breathed out and it remained long time still.
Anglachelm got up from his seat. His blond hair was decorated with a masterly made circlet worth that of a prince or king. His blue garments resembled that of a mariner, the white wings of a swan emblazoned on his chest. "The strong arm of the Ñoldor", she heard him saying.
The blind Elf had met the leader of Vanimar already before but it had been brief and she did not know with whom she had met on one of the great gatherings. He had been kind though to her and so Gaomee had faith in the Lord's further kindness. "In the realm of Thranduil, Mirkwood, thou sayest?"
"And Lorien. Also the Golden Wood is beset. Lord Celeborn launched a counter to aid from the south, but alas, for a while we scored even, now we must fall back again."
A black haired elf moved in as Gaomee heard.
"My Lord, I must interfere and remind that these lands that are subject of this negotiations are far away. Far too distant I would say even. Such a journey and endeavor would bring naught." Gaomee took up her defense immediately. "Every arm is needed and could mean victory or defeat if it would be missing!"
But she had been encircled and her words had not been strong enough from the beginning on that someone of the Elves here would truly listen to her.
"So the King's forest is now being protected by blind women who are talking about tactics and regiments? Thou shouldst have brought thine message to Valar my lady, if things had gone that desperate", came an attack from the side.
"Be still!", said Lord Anglachelm like a thunder and indeed, his council was still immediately. No on objected him as much as the Lord did not tolerated such attacks as the Elf Daegond had uttered. Gaomee remembered him and was warned by Mirineth, a lady of the house. Daegond was renowned for his sharp tongue that could cut just as a blade. A long sigh came over the lips of Anglachelm. "Is that all?"
By these words, Gaomee felt as if her heart would shrink. Nor the council and not the Lord she seemed to have caught with her words. It was not understandable for her how they waved her words away like smoke, when she spoke of war and impending defeat.
"I am afraid so", she began a new attempt. "Elves die and suffer while the realm of Thranduil shrinks and Lorien is about to face a terrible onslaught. If we gain no aid."
"And thou wouldst have us leave our own? Nonsense..."
Anglachelm interfered again: "She has asked a proper question and we shall giver her answer in the same politeness as she is giving to us and in the same respect."
"It is a fruitless request, we have troubles of our own, thou knowst this more than most, Lord. There is none we can spare without compromising our own situation, it is folly."
Gaomee noticed how how the Lord made a few steps towards her direction. "I am sorry, Gaomee, but my council is right. I must say with deep regret that the place of the Hammer and Fountain is here; In Imladris."
"I understand and accept thy decision, Lord Anglachelm. Though I pray, to thee and the Valar, that thou may sendest aid, not today, but some day, ere it is too late."
